Oooh. That's a Lynn story! Save Me, Superman, if I'm not mistaken.
I'll be back in a bit with a new one. I have no food in my condo, and it's lunch time. :p
JD
Ok, here's another opener.
He shifted on the hard wooden chair, looked around the sparsely furnished room and quietly rattled off the names of the items.
"Chair... table... mirror..."
The swell of frustration caused the knot in his stomach to coil tighter and his hands to clench on the grimy tabletop. He *knew* what a chair was...
He knew so much, but at the same time... he didn't. He just didn't know. He couldn't remember the important things, and it frustrated him. He glared at the chair on the other side of the small table and ran an agitated hand through his hair.
Why didn't he know who he was?
He *should* know who he was. After all, that wasn't something you were supposed to forget. It wasn't like he'd misplaced his keys or forgotten to turn the oven off...
His eyes darted around the room, the oppressive grey walls looming over him. The chair scraped backwards as he stood quickly and strode over to the mirror on the opposite wall. Five full strides. Just like the time before, and the time before that. The walls weren't closing in on him. He wondered again if he might be claustrophobic...
He sucked in a deep breath. He was fine. Really.
He was just locked in a crumbling interrogation room at the Metropolis Police Department and he had no idea who he was.
Yeah, he was fine.
